“Nay? I am the one being shown the door.”
“Aye, and you are very slow to go through it, if you ask me,” she snapped, her temper frayed.
He stared at her long and hard. “Verra weel, mistress,” he finally said. “Ye willnae be troubled with my company again.”
Tearlach turned sharply and strode away. Pleasance sank onto the bench, still a little wobbly from the effects of his fiery kiss, and fought the urge to call him back.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why should I make this sacrifice, one that insults him and hurts me? ’Tis not as if Letitia has any difficulty attracting possible husbands.”
She battled the sudden rebellion that swept through her, but it was proving far stronger than her sense of duty. Letitia had not wanted Tearlach until he had ignored her. It was plain selfishness that drove her, and Pleasance did not see why she should give up something she wanted so badly just to placate her sister’s possessiveness.
Spurred by that outrage, Pleasance stood up and took one step after Tearlach before stopping abruptly. He was standing at the iron gate at the far end of the garden, the one that led into the front courtyard. Just as he passed through that gate, Letitia stepped up and slipped her arm through his. All the fight left Pleasance and she slowly sat back down. It was too late to take back her hurtful words now, and Letitia would never give her the chance to try.
The sudden appearance of Letitia Dunstan startled Tearlach. When the fulsome blond eased her arm through his, his first thought was to shake her off, but then he caught sight of Pleasance watching them. It was a petty act, and he knew it, but he turned his best smile on Letitita. He wanted Pleasance to feel the same pinch of pride that he did. A little voice in his head told him that it was far more than bruised pride he was suffering as a result of Pleasance’s rejection, but he stoutly ignored it.
“Ah, Mistress Letitia, ’tis pleasant to see a welcoming face,” he murmured.
“Oh, you poor man.” Letitia smoothed her hand over his arm. “Pleasance told me what she planned to do.”
“Did she.” Tearlach did not appreciate that his humiliation had been made a topic of discussion amongst Pleasance’s haughty family.
“I tried to counsel her against such a cruel rejection, but she would not listen to a word I said. Please do not think these are my words, and I do not wish to inflict any further pain, but—oh, dear, I am not sure I can speak such hurtful words aloud.”
Watching Letitia, Tearlach decided she would make a fine actress. He wanted to tell her to keep her dirty little gossip to herself, but curiosity won out over good sense. If Letitia knew why Pleasance was sending him away, he wanted to hear what she had to say. It could be no worse than all the possibilities he was conjuring up in his own mind.
“The truth may be painful, Mistress Letitia,” he said, “but ’tis always best to ken it.”
“Please be assured that I do not share my sister’s sentiments. I cannot understand how she came to think such things.” Letitia sighed and shook her head. “I fear my sister suffers from the sins of pride and vanity, Master O’Duine. Quite simply, she is under the delusion that she can do much better than you. I fear she sees you as some ignorant backwoodsman, which is silly of her. Anyone can see that you are a man of refinement who is working hard to overcome the limitations of your birth. I will say no more. It can only upset you.”
“Your kind heart becomes you, Mistress Letitia.” It surprised Tearlach that Letitia’s sweetly malicious speech should cut him as deeply as it did. He had suspected exactly what she was telling him. He had faced such snobbery before, endured that deep English prejudice against the Scots. That Pleasance Dunstan could cause that pain, that he had allowed her to penetrate his defenses to that extent, only angered him more.
He looked toward Pleasance. She was still watching him and Letitia closely, and he sent her a cold smile. It apparently annoyed her to see him with her sister, and he intended to make full use of that. Tearlach suspected that Letitia also considered him unworthy of her, beneath her in class and respectability, yet the smiling blonde was behaving quite flirtatiously. For a while, Tearlach would play along.
“Master O’Duine?” Letitia smiled up at him and lightly touched his cheek with her fingertips. “Allow me to try and make some form of amends. I feel so ashamed of Pleasance’s harshness. Come, let us go into the parlor and I will have lemonade served.”
“That sounds verra appealing.”
And Tearlach allowed Letitia to lead him into the house.
Pleasance slowly unclenched her hands. She stared at the four half-moon-shaped gouges in each palm. She had the sinking feeling that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Worse, she knew she had only just begun to pay for it.
Chapter Two
“I want you to steal something for me.”
Pleasance gaped at her fair-haired sister. A month ago, when Letitia had demanded that Pleasance reject Tearlach O’Duine so that she could have the man for herself, Pleasance had decided that nothing else her family could do would shock her. She was not pleased to be proven wrong. She also felt she had done more than enough already for them; Letitia was appallingly audacious to ask for more now.
“Steal? Did you truly say steal something for you?” she asked Letitia.
“Aye.” Letitia pursed her lips in a sullen pout. “Why do you act so horrified? ’Tis not such a grand favor I ask of you. Why are you so reluctant?”
“Why? Because if caught, I would face hanging, the pillory, flogging, or virtual enslavement!” Pleasance paced her small, sparsely furnished bedroom before stopping to glare at her younger sister.
“I am well aware of the penalties for theft, Pleasance. There is no need to recite them,” Letitia grumbled.
“Yet you ask me to risk them.”
Pleasance frowned as she watched her voluptuous sister shrink down in her seat. Letitia always stood tall, straight, and proud—perhaps too proud, blatantly displaying the curves so many men ogled. Yet now she looked defeated and just a little afraid. Although instinct told Pleasance that it would probably cost her dearly, she felt her heart go out to her young sister.
“What is it you wish me to steal and why must I steal it?”
“Oh, thank you, Pleasance. Thank you!” Letitia immediately sat up straighter.
“Do not be so hasty. I have not yet said I will do it. I simply want to hear more about it. If your answers do not suit me, then I shall not risk it.” Pleasance moved to open a window, but it did little to ease the oppressive heat in the room, the late August night proving as hot as the day.
“I want you to steal some letters, some love letters.”
“What harm or threat can there be in a few innocent billets-doux?”
Letitia grimaced and ran a hand through her thick golden hair in an uncharacteristic gesture of agitation. “A great deal of trouble when they are letters, and rather explicit letters at that, which were written to a man other than the one I plan to marry.”
Nearly gaping, Pleasance sat down on her small bed. “You are to be married? Why have I heard nothing of this?” She feared her own agitation was revealed in the way she began to fidgit with a stray lock of her chestnut hair.
“Because it has yet to be announced. In truth, I have yet to be asked. But I shall be. I feel certain that Father has already been approached or will be within the next day or so.”
It was an arrogant assumption, but Pleasance did not argue. If Letitia said the proposal was coming, then it probably was. Nearly a dozen men had been lurking around waiting for some sign of willingness from her, for some